Laying Low
by ThatTastyCheesecake
Summary: Hawkeye is laying low after the events of Civil War, but when a local gang begin to make trouble in his neighbourhood, he finds it hard to ignore. To add to his ever-escalating list of problems, he finds himself on the local vigilantes radar.
1. Laying Low

Chapter 1 / Laying Low:

 **Hey All! Here's a random fic that just popped out of my head the other day. Expect spoilers from Captain America: Civil War and Daredevil: Season 2. As always feel free to leave me feedback, whether it be something you liked, criticism, or simply ideas/inspiration.**

 **I loved Hawkeye in Civil War and have recently grown attached to the awesome comic series and felt inspired to write a fic about what happened to him after Civil War. I've been secretly hoping that (although unlikely) he will crossover into the Netflix shows for an episode or arc, or even get his own series. Now would be the perfect time as he cannot go home due to the fallout of Civil War, so they could do an awesome gritty series based off of his comic. This compelled me to cross this fic over with Daredevil, as I found my planned story and character inclusions syncing up nicely.**

 **Synopsis: Hawkeye is laying low after the events of Civil War, but when a local gang begin to make trouble in his neighbourhood, he finds it hard to ignore. To add to his ever-escalating list of problems, he finds himself on the local vigilantes** ** _radar_** ***wink wink*.**

* * *

Clint Barton closed the door to his cramped apartment, slowly moving to slump himself on his uncomfortable couch. He sighed as he sunk deeper. Another dull day in hiding. He stared at the ceiling in silence, boredom settling in.

How did he end up here? Taking residence in a shitty apartment building in the middle of Hells Kitchen? Oh, right! He chuckled. He was a wanted man now. A criminal. His face dropped. The term stung more than he cared to admit. He was a loyal S.H.I.E.L.D Operative, an Avenger even! Not some thug or assassin…not anymore, at least. What would his family think?

His family…Clint's face dropped even further. Everything had happened so fast. Cap had called and he had answered. How could he not? It was _Captain America_! He knew that Steve wouldn't have been calling without a good reason, and his kids…god his kids would never have forgiven him if he didn't help the Captain in his time of need.

Clint didn't regret the side he'd chosen. He'd follow Cap anywhere. He trusted the man and his judgement more than anything. But that didn't change the fact that he was now laying low in a run-down complex located in arguably the most dangerous part of the city: Hell's Kitchen. Why Hell's Kitchen? Because it was in New York. And what idiot in their right mind would come to New York when the Government was hunting them? Clint chuckled once more. Their Avengers team had decided that it would be best to split up and lay low for a while, unwilling to take the risk of endangering T'Challa and the rest of Wakanda. Cap had given him the strangest look when he had suggested that he might choose to hide in the city.

There was a sudden crash from outside. Clint slowly got up to gaze out of his window, already knowing the sight that he would be met with. The local gang, his neighbours referred to them as The Tracksuits, were causing trouble for his building again. He wasn't sure why they called them by the creative term: The Tracksuits. Maybe it was due to the fact that they always wore brown tracksuits…nah, it must be a coincidence.

The rumours were true. Clint always did see better from a distance. There were three Tracksuit thugs in the alleyway. They were busying themselves by beating an elderly man, demanding their protection fee. Clint's face hardened as he recognised the man. It was Paul. The retired baker who lived on the floor below him. He was one of the kindest men that Clint Barton had ever met.

He slammed his fists down onto the windowsill. How he would love to put arrows into those thugs…but it was actions like that that went against the whole laying-low ideal. He hesitantly turned his back, slowly stepping away one foot at a time. This wasn't what he was supposed to be doing. He was an Avenger! He was supposed to help people! But helping Paul would only draw unnecessary attention to himself. He sat back down on the couch, body trembling with supressed emotions. One day…one day soon…Clint wouldn't be able to hold back any longer. And on that day, he would take pleasure in taking down every last thug that dared to threaten _his_ building! He just had to keep himself in check for as long as he could.

"Easy…this'll be easy. I can hold my temper right? I can do this!" His face relaxed slightly, confidence beginning to take residence there. But his eyes told a different story…

* * *

The next attack came two days later. Clint was making his way back from the store, his cap pulled low over his face as he tried to blend in. Being a less interesting Avenger had its benefits, as the majority of the public wouldn't recognise him unless he was suited up. That made his current state of living slightly easier.

He was just fishing the keys to the building out of his pocket when he heard the screams. Clint gritted his teeth, continuing to unlock the door as a young couple was thrown out from the alley next to him. They scrambled to their feet and ran past him, up the stairs and to the safety of their apartment. Clint made to follow when he heard a shout behind him. He paused, taking a deep breath before dropping his bag of supplies and turning to face the voice, ready to teach them a well-deserved lesson.

There were two Tracksuit members this time, one sporting a baseball bat on their shoulder whilst the other kept one hand in their pocket, possibly hiding a sidearm. Easy, Clint thought, he could take them without breaking a sweat. He was static as they approached, striding over with foolish confidence.

"Hey _bro_!" Tracksuit One bellowed, despite the fact that they were almost face to face. "You live here?" Clint didn't answer.

"I've never seen you around before!" Tracksuit Two exclaimed. "You must be new!" Clint smirked slightly in satisfaction. He had spent the past three weeks since he had moved in avoiding the gang. He stayed silent.

"If he's new…" Tracksuit One began, sharing a look of greed with his partner, "…then he must not be aware of our arrangement with his building."

"Riiiiiiiiiight…" Two replied, smiling with malice, "…despite what you may have heard, _we_ are the landlords around here! You pay _us_ for your maintained protection! And guess what? It's rent time! That's $800 a month!" Clint knew for a fact that their supposed _rent time_ had been last week. Tracksuit One pulled the bat down off of his shoulder as Two kept his hand in his pocket. Clint's eyes shot to the pocket as he heard the distinctive click of the hammer being pulled back. He looked back up to see Tracksuit Two's eyes meet his own, his smirk growing wider as he registered that Clint was aware of his hidden sidearm. "Pay up now or you might have to find out why we are the ones in charge here!"

Clint observed the pair. He could easily take them both. His fists clenched at his sides as he tensed up, preparing to strike. Their smiles grew wider as they noticed that he was about to fight back. They wouldn't be smiling if they had any idea as to what they had just started. He drew a deep breath, clearing his mind in preparation for combat. The thugs did the same, thinking that they were up against a foolish man who they could beat to a pulp. The tension was thick as Clint suddenly lowered his guard, placing a mask of fear over his face.

"Okay…okay…" He stuttered, stumbling back a step, "…I don't want any trouble, I'll pay you your money…" He backed into his bag, swiftly picking it up as he continued, "I've just got to go and get my wallet…I'll be back in a sec…"

Clint wasted no time, swiftly moving through the open doorway into the building as the two Tracksuit thugs addressed each other in confusion.

"I guess we don't have to beat on him now…shame really…what a waste…"

"Yeah…"

"Wait…hasn't he just been to the store?" Two questioned, eying Clint's bag.

"Yeah…" One answered, turning to the Avenger as he closed the door behind himself. Clint grinned as he walked away, patting his wallet which was tucked away safely in his pocket as the two thugs banged on the door, shouting in protest…

* * *

The third encounter came the next evening. Clint was in bed, desperately trying to clear his troubled mind and get some sleep, when heard shouts from the alleyway once more. After a brief moments hesitation he got up and made his way over to the window. There was no way that he was getting sleep tonight now anyway.

Clint's trained vision identified Tracksuit's One and Two from the day before, but they were now joined by Tracksuits Three, Four and Five, who were currently terrorising a poor mother and her daughter.

Clint's jawline tensed. They were stooping so low as to threaten children now? The little girl couldn't be older than eight. He couldn't stand for this. He had to do something. Cap would understand…

He paused for a breath. Cap _would_ understand. The patriot would never have been able to stand by and let this continue…and neither would Clint. He strode back over to his bed and swiftly pulled a case out from under it. He'd stop their reign of terror, no matter the consequences.

* * *

Tracksuits Three and Four gripped the wailing mother as Five held the daughter in place, pointing a knife at her throat. The child was shaking and whimpering.

"Why are you doing this?" The mother screamed, her voice breaking mid-sentence. "We've paid you your money!"

"That may be the case," Tracksuit One replied, sinisterly tapping his bat in his hand, "but every now and again we need to make an example of someone, to keep everyone in line, and unfortunately for you…" He trailed off, letting the unspoken threat taint the air.

"Who should we kill first?" Tracksuit Two asked the others, visibly shaking from excitement.

"This one!" Five exclaimed, raising his arm in the air before bringing it back down towards the girl, knife at the ready. The man did not hesitate, going straight for the kill. Neither did Clint.

Before any of the Tracksuits could react, a black arrow was sprouting from Five's neck, the force of the shot sending him to the floor. The Tracksuits all stood rooted to the spot, shock planted on each of their faces as they slowly swept the alleyway, searching for their attacker. The child was terrified, instantly scampering to safety behind a dumpster. A second arrow followed, hitting the space between the four remaining thugs before detonating in a flash, stunning all of the Tracksuits.

Three and Four lost their grip on the mother, who quickly scurried off to find her daughter. Clint smiled. Both of the innocents were out of the way now, he no longer had any need to hold back.

"UP THERE! ON THE FIRE ESCAPE!"

Shit! He'd been too focused on the civilians, he'd taken his eyes off of the thugs. He looked down to see Tracksuit Two aiming his gun, spamming the trigger before he had even managed to raise it high enough.

Bullets embedded themselves around him as Clint leapt, twisting mid-air to fire off a grapple-arrow. His body fell momentarily before the tether reached its length, pulling him into a swing.

For once Clint was glad that he had trained at the circus, as the reflexes he had built up were the only things that saved him from smashing into the wall. Planting his feet on the surface, he quickly softened his impact before pushing off again, releasing the tether before dropping to the ground, avoiding Tracksuit Four's bullet spray, who had taken over shooting duties as Two reloaded.

Clint rolled to absorb the impact of the fall, quickly following the child's example and ducking behind a dumpster for cover. He'd managed to get a quick glance at the Tracksuits. For anyone else it would have been just that, a glance, but not for Clint. Not for Hawkeye. Tracksuits Two and Four were holding back whilst One and Three were advancing. Two and Four seemed to be the only ones possessing firearms, whilst One was equipped with his baseball bat and Three had had a switchblade drawn. Clint drew himself an arrow, knocking it with professional ease. He could take them. They wouldn't catch him off guard again.

He emerged from cover, instantly lining up his target and firing, taking Four down with an arrow to the shoulder. Three was almost upon him now with One close behind. Two was already raising his gun. Clint quickly knocked a second arrow, shooting Three in the thigh, sending him to the floor before stepping in front of the rapidly approaching One, blocking Two's line of sight.

He swiftly picked up Three's blade and threw it with deadly accuracy, watching as it skimmed One's hip to embed itself in Two's groin. One quickly closed the distance between them, swinging his bat. Clint dodged the swing easily, ducking beneath the weapon before landing a series of quick jabs to the man, sending him to his knees. One tried to recover and punch Clint, only to have his arm twisted behind his back a moment later, screeching in pain as Clint dislocated it.

Clint turned and began striding over to Three as One fell to the ground behind him.

"Gather your friends here and get out of my sight!" Clint stared hard into Three's eyes as he gave his commands. "Tell whoever is in charge that this building and its residents are off limits! If I catch any of you around here again then you'll all end up like you friend Number Five over there!" He gestures over to the thug who had attempted to kill the child.

Tracksuit Three looked momentarily confused at Clint's name for his comrade before scrambling to his feet, grabbing One and hauling him over to Four. After helping Four get to his feet, the three of them dragged a crying Two around the corner and out of sight.

Clint lost interest as soon as they rounded the corner, his focus now solely on his terrified neighbours who were harboured behind the dumpster in front of him. It was because of this, perhaps, that he did not notice the crimson horned figure watching him from the rooftop above.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **-Who could that be? hmmmmmm…**

 **-As I mentioned at the beginning, this is heavily inspired by the awesome Hawkeye comic series by Matt Fraction**

 **-I know I mentioned Cap a few times, but I always got the impression that Clint respected Cap a lot, after all he was on his side in Civil War. I felt that pretty much all of Cap's team was on his side because of Cap himself and their loyalty to him more than the fact that they thought it was the right side**


	2. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen

Chapter 2 / The Devil of Hell's Kitchen:

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen. More recently: Daredevil. Matthew Murdock didn't know which name suited him best. He needed to have a word with Melvin about the devil imagery he had interpreted into his costume design. He sighed, how would he know? His disability came at a cost. How could he tell if his costume looked ridiculous? He was blind. He shook his head, focusing his senses back on the task at hand.

Just five minutes ago he'd been roaming the rooftops of the city on his nightly patrol. Matt hadn't checked this area in a while. With the recent surges in activity for practically every gang in the city he found himself having confrontations most nights.

He had heard a woman screaming for her child a few blocks away, instantly racing towards the sounds. He had almost fallen off of the rooftops in confusion when he sensed an unusual figure fighting back. Was there another player in the city? He didn't have time to stop and wonder, so he had continued on his path.

Matt had reached the fight just before it ended, watching through his distorted version of vision as a mysterious man dislocated the last thugs arm, dropping them to the floor. He stood on the edge of the rooftop, following the figures footsteps as they made their way over to another downed thug, who appeared to be bleeding from an arrow wound in his thigh.

Wait! An arrow wound? Matt re-tasked his enhanced senses, focusing on the figures weapon of choice. Shapes had never been the easiest of things for Matt to identify. Sudden movements were simpler to see than static objects. After what felt like too long, Matt finally identified the stranger's weapon. It was indeed a bow. He could sense the unmistakable texture of the arrow fletchings as the breeze rustled through them. He'd seen many weapons in play on the streets, but a bow was not one of them. The only other time he had encountered the use of that kind of weaponry was when he was up against The Hand…

Matt paused for a second, a slight pang of fear entering his stomach. They couldn't be back…could they? He had barely survived his last encounter with the villainous group. Matt doubted he could survive another war against them. He had lost too much to them already…

He pulled himself out of his murky thoughts, refocusing back on the present. Could this new player be a warrior of The Hand? He studied the man. His posture was stiff. He was confident. His heart rate was strong yet steady. This man was composed, although his tone suggested an underlying fury towards the thug he was now confronting. Matt had been too intent on studying the figure that he only caught the end of his threat.

 _"…then you'll all end up like you friend Number Five over there!"_

Number Five? What was he…Oh…It took him a moment to identify the fifth thug as he no longer had a heartbeat. He was dead. This man had killed someone. Matt stepped up to the edge of the rooftop, preparing to pay the guy a visit when he paused.

The thugs had left now, yet he could still sense multiple heartbeats. One was young whilst the other was older. Both were panic stricken. They must have been the ones screaming, Matt deduced. The stranger strode over to them, comforting them, before helping them back inside of the building.

The Hand didn't help innocents. They didn't care. They handled their business and then left. Matt stepped back down from the ledge, head swirling with confusion. His jawline tightened. He'd have to keep an eye on this guy…

* * *

Three days. Matthew Murdock had been observing this guy for three days now. He alternated between pacing the streets as his lawyer-self in the day and stalking the rooftops as his alter-ego in the evenings.

Tonight he was crouched on a billboard, two rooftops away from the apartment building that the archer had taken residence in. He had done nothing out of the ordinary since Daredevil had begun his watch. The man was cautious though. Wouldn't anyone be if they had recently threatened a gang of thugs? He was constantly checking his surroundings with professional ease, using the rooftops to their own advantage. This had slowly pushed Matt further and further away. The man was good, Matt was sure that he had been spotted once or twice already, forcing him to be more cautious as he observed tonight. The archer seemed to have freakishly good eyesight, especially at long range.

He was currently pacing his room, muttering to himself in anxiety. Matt could hear the constant beat of his footsteps. It was taking all of his focus to deduce what the guy was saying from this distance.

 _"…I can't stay any longer…"_

 _"…It won't be long before they find out I'm here…"_

 _"…If I stay then I'll only get these people into trouble…"_

Matt frowned in confusion, which was something that he found himself doing a lot recently. The guy's heart seemed to be in the right place. He seemed genuine in his concern for the resident's safety. But there was an air of danger surrounding the guy too. His professionalism only proved his notoriety as a threat. The next words that came out of the archer's mouth set Matt on alert.

 _"I can't leave them at the mercy of the Tracksuits…"_ he paused, taking a deep breath. _"…the Captain's gonna kill me…"_

Daredevil tensed. _Captain_? So the man answered to someone? Was he hired muscle? Matt's head was overloading with the possibilities as to who this man was. He took a deep breath, calming his thoughts as he stood, preparing to make his way back home. He wasn't going to get a clear answer like this. He would just have to wait for the right opportunity to ask the guy the questions he had in person…

* * *

It wasn't until two days later that Matt got his chance. The stranger that he had been observing was currently residing on the roof of his apartment building, seemingly looking to get some air. Matt approached, clad in his Daredevil suit, silently stalking the rooftop behind the guy. The man's heartbeat flickered slightly, causing Matt to slow his progress.

"I was wondering how easy I'd have to make it before you'd finally confront me…" He said calmly, turning to face the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. " …now here you are…" Matt paused. Apart from the two times that he suspected he'd been spotted, the guy had given him nothing to suggest that he was aware of Matt's persistent observation of him

"So…are you going to tell me why you've been watching me?" The stranger asked, cutting straight to the chase.

"You knew?" Matt enquired after a moment's pause, unsure of what else to say. _I was concerned that you might be a threat_ wasn't the best opener.

"I'll admit you're good…" The guy chuckled "…but I've been trained to spot people who are trying to hide. It's what I do for a living…" Matt tensed at those words. Just what did he do for a living? The man continued. "…the blind man…the one whose been pacing the streets every day…that was you." It was a statement, not a question. "Tell me…is the blind persona an act, or can you really not see?"

Matt failed to keep a blank face, as his body tensed in shock. He had underestimated this guy. They didn't even seemed surprised at the thought that Matt really could be blind, as if he was used to the idea of people with abnormal abilities…

"Who are you? And what are you doing in my city?" Matt asked, ignoring the man's last question.

Matt sensed a smile as the stranger answered. "I'm no threat to you, if that's what you're asking." He stated, amusement in his voice. "You've been protecting this city for a while now…" He paused as Matt's shoulders tensed. "Yes…I know who you are. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen. More commonly known as Daredevil nowadays." Another pause. "I'm Clint. A guy simply looking out for his neighbours. Is there any harm in that?"

"You killed a man!" Matt shot instantly. Clint barely reacted. Did he feel no shame? No remorse? A man's life had been taken.

"That man was going to kill an innocent child. Hell, he not only attempted to do it, he _wanted_ to! I did what needed to be done." He sounded confident, like he wholeheartedly believed what he was saying. Matt couldn't decide whether it was a comfort. Clint continued. "Violence seems to be the only thing that these guys understand…"

"Then make them understand something else!" Matt interjected, fists clenching. "Without killing! That's the line that separates _us_ from _them_."

"I respect that that is what you believe, but the line is no that clear. It never has been. But I _promise_ you…I'm one of the good guys." Matt took a step back, shocked by Clint's demeanour. The guy was so calm, so controlled. His heartbeat was consistent. He spoke the truth, or at least what he believed to be true. Matt paused, considering his words carefully before replying.

"Okay then, _Clint_." He spoke his name as if it disgusted him. "I'll let you be, for now, but if you cause any trouble in _my_ city, I'll know! If you even _think_ of killing any…"

"Alright! I've got it!" Clint interrupted, a sarcastic tone to his voice. "You can go back to your other nightly activities now without worrying about me and my killing…okay?"

Matt backed away in silence, not prepared to waste another breath talking to the guy. Killing was no joke. He leapt over to the next rooftop and paused, waiting until he sense Clint returning to his apartment before he continued. He was so preoccupied in his thoughts that he failed to register the object until it was too late.

Matt felt a sharp pain in his chest as a knife protruded from it. He backed up, reaching to remove the weapon as he locked on to the thrower. He immediately analysed the man's demeanour with his tuned senses. Middle aged. Male. The newcomer was calm, his heartbeat steady. Matt assumed that he was a professional. The man had knives of all sorts stashed across his body, mainly for throwing, Matt deduced. He hesitated as he examined the larger knifes at the man's belt. Their style was different…Matt froze, welling with emotion as he realised what weapons the assassin was carrying: sai.

His thoughts instantly surged to Elektra. Five months on and it still hurt to think about her. Once again he found his thoughts so clouded that he couldn't think straight. Matt barely avoided the next knife that came at him, managing to get away with a deep slash to the shoulder.

He refocused on the enemy as they charged him, now wieldy a deadly sai blade in each hand. Matt drew his billy clubs from his holster, mirroring his attackers stance as they clashed. He stopped thinking instantaneously, blocking, dodging and attacking without hesitation. Matt didn't consider his movements, he only reacted. The assassin was fast, highly trained and accurate. Unbelievably accurate. Every strike would have been fatal if not for Matt's own abilities.

The assassin suddenly kicked Matt backwards, putting some space between them before throwing his sia towards the vigilante. Daredevil barely managed to block them, deflecting the projectiles with his batons. He stumbled back in an attempt to regain his balance as the attacker let out a dry chuckle.

"When my employer sent me to kill you, he told me you were going to be a challenge." The assassin taunted. His voice was deep and masculine, sounding like it belonged to a man older than himself. He was now sauntering on the edge of the rooftop, clearly unfazed by the height. "I guess I'll be moving on to my other two targets sooner than I'd thought."

Matt was breathing heavily. He was bleeding from multiple cuts, all deep from the feel of them. He was going to pass out soon, he could already feel his body betraying him. He needed to end this fight quickly.

He swiftly brought his billy clubs together, connecting them into a short staff before releasing them slightly, a retractable tether now bridged between them. He quickly dropped to the floor, scooping up one of the assassins discarded blades before launching it back at its owner. The guy sidestepped the projectile with ease, laughing with confidence…until Daredevil's extendable baton wrapped around his ankle. Matt instantly pulled on the other end of the cable before they had a chance to react, sending them tumbling off of the edge of the rooftop.

Matt kept his senses on the man as he landed on the fire escape, slamming his head on the way down. He listened as his baton retracted. A breath. Thank god. He was still alive. Matt sighed with relief, before tensing for what seemed like the millionth time this night. He was already coming to. Matt had to escape before the assassin got back up here. He staggered, falling to the floor. He wasn't going to make it far. Where could he go?

Daredevil struggled to his feet as his attacker climbed towards him from the other side of the building. He was running out of time. Matt took a deep breath, pulling himself together. Here goes nothing. He leapt off of the roof, falling into the darkness below.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **-Poor Matt, he's not having a good night…**

 **-Clint was an assassin and he worked for SHIELD, so he wouldn't have a problem killing someone if they deserved it. Does that make him a bad person? Matt can't seem to decide unsure…**

 **-I love how Matt always refers to Hell's Kitchen as 'his city'**

 **-Just in case anyone is confused, Matt was relived because he didn't kill the assassin**


	3. A Crazy Evening

Chapter 3 / A Crazy Evening:

"Well that was a bit crazy…" Clint muttered to himself as he closed the door to his apartment. He sighed as he slumbered over to his couch, preparing to make another attempt at sleep.

Clint sighed. He wished that being threatened by a possibly blind costumed vigilante was the craziest thing that had happened to him throughout his life. Sadly it didn't come close. Maybe that was why he wasn't scared. He was sure that Daredevil would be a fearsome foe to fight, possibly even someone who outmatched him, but they were on the same side. He just had to find a way to show that to him.

He could always just tell him who he really was. An Avenger. One of Earth's mightiest heroes. But then that would blow his cover, and Clint couldn't be sure what the guy would do with that information. He couldn't take that chance unless it proved absolutely necessary.

Clint wasn't going to get any sleep with his head swirling like this. He opened his window, intending to step out onto the fire escape for some fresh air when a red clad figure crashed down onto it. Clint swiftly manoeuvred himself over to the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, instantly checking his vitals. The man was breathing but barely conscious, seemingly struggling to stay awake. He was bleeding from multiple slash wounds, each varying in shape and size as if they had all come from different types of knives. Clint quickly dragged him inside, closing the window and the curtains, blocking off the view from the outside.

Clint laid Daredevil out on his couch, pulling out the basic medical kit that he kept for emergencies. You could never be too careful with luck like his. He cleaned and dressed each of the vigilante's wounds, doing his best to help with what little supplies he possessed.

The guy struggled all of the way through, flailing in desperation as he kept trying to stand. Clint wasn't sure whether he knew what was going on anymore. Daredevil suddenly froze, seeming to find a moment of clarity in his pain. His head twitched, as if he was listening for something. The man spoke, in a whisper so quiet that it took all of Clint's focus to hear.

"He…he's searching for me…"

"Who?" Clint asked after a moments pause. "Who did this?" He may not have ever experienced the Devil of Hell's Kitchen in action first-hand, but he'd seen the small amount of footage of the guy that existed. He could handle himself in a fight. Anyone who could take this guy down in a fight, especially one that was as one-sided as this one seemed to have been, worried Clint.

Daredevil focused his gaze on Clint. It unnerved him slightly. It seemed as if the guy was looking through him instead of at him. It was as if he had only just noticed Clint's presence in the room. He hesitated before answering.

"An...an assassin of some kind…unlike anyone I've ever fought…" The Viglante coughed for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Clint waited patiently until he was ready to continue. "He had a whole assortment of knives…he threw them all with deadly accuracy, I've never seen anyone like him…" He trailed off, fading to whisper. Clint waited once more, but Daredevil remained silent this time. He thought things over in his head before speaking.

"An assassin with deadly accuracy. There are only two known operatives who specialise in precision like that. And the knives…this has to be his work…"

"Who?" The Devil prodded, perking in interest at the chance for information.

"His codename is Bullseye. He's a mercenary for hire. Nobody knows his real name." Clint paused, rubbing his face with worry. "It's said that with his accuracy he can turn anything into a deadly weapon. Knives, work tools, even playing cards. There are also rumours that he is enhanced somehow. Reports state that he hits harder than physically possible, and that he has walked away relatively unscathed from attacks that would have crippled a normal man."

"How do you know all this?" Daredevil seemed to think about the question he had just asked, seemingly coming to the conclusion that Clint wasn't going to give an answer before asking another question. "What about the other operative? Are you _sure_ that it's not them."

"I am." Clint stated flatly. The vigilante tilted their head, sizing him up.

"You seem positive." He said. "You know the other one?"

"Funnily enough I do." Clint exclaimed, a slight humorous edge to his voice. "I am the other operative." He smiled at the shock that graced Daredevil's face, at least, the half not hidden behind his mask.

"An operative called Clint." The vigilante spoke after a moment. "It's not exactly the most fear inspiring name…"

"I'll have you know that Clint Barton is a well respected name in the world of spies and assassins!" Clint blurted out before realising his mistake. He felt the need to face palm himself. He was supposed to be a professional.

"Clint Barton…" The guy's voice was back to barely a whisper as he spoke to himself, seemingly forgetting that Clint was still present in the room. He couldn't blame the guy, after all he was still slightly out of it. "I'm sure I've heard that name before…perhaps Foggy mentioned it?"

Clint knew he had blown it. When the guy was recovered he'd figure out who he was. All he had to do was type in Clint's name on Google. After S.H.I.E.L.D's data was leaked onto the web all of his files were available for everyone to see. He considered that it might be just to just tell the man after all. He retrieved his equipment from the other room, stashing his bow and quiver onto his back. He knelt next to Daredevil, who was frozen once more, head tilted in confusion.

"He's leaving." The vigilante stated flatly as if it was a fact.

"Look, I'm gonna go see if I kind find this guy. It's best if I see him with my own eyes. You just hang tight and get some rest. I'll be back soon." Clint told him, trying to ignore the guys creepy predictions. Was he psychic? Or maybe Clint's enhanced blind theory wasn't so crazy after all.

"He'll kill you!" Daredevil spoke, refocusing back on Clint. "You may be an operative of some kind but this guy is the real deal."

"Yeah? Well so am I! There's a reason I'm an Avenger!" Clint dropped the title in there, no longer caring if this guy knew who he was, he surely would have found out sooner or later. He hoped that this act of trust would help settle things between them as he re-opened the window to make his exit. He could have sworn he heard the vigilante mutter the name 'Hawkeye' as he left…

* * *

Clint scoured the rooftops for a good few hours, fanning out in his search for Bullseye. It was almost morning when he decided to call it a day and head back. The assassin was as good at disappearing as he was, maybe even better.

Clint climbed back down his fire escape and into his window to find Daredevil sat up on the couch, currently listening to someone on his phone. He had removed his helmet, revealing the vigilante's face. He was indeed the 'blind' man from before. Clint took this reveal as a sign of trust.

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen currently wore a worried scowl on his face as he slowly put his phone down. He looked sick with worry. Something had clearly gone wrong. Clint waited for him to speak, giving him the time he needed to steel his nerves.

"This Bullseye…" The vigilante started, "…he mentioned another pair of targets in his sights…I…I just didn't know that he meant me…the real me…"

"What do you mean?" Clint asked, needing clarification on the situation.

"He's taken Foggy…my friend…" He paused for a moment, lost in thought, "…meaning that he's sure to come after me next." He chuckled. "He must have left me for last thinking that a blind lawyer wouldn't be too much trouble…" His last statement was uttered bitterly, as if speaking it left a bad taste in his mouth. He looked in Clint's direction, desperation settling on his face. "I know that I barely know you, and that you're trying to stay out of trouble, but I need your help…"

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **-Gotta love fire escapes, they're a must have for street level vigilante-ism**

 **-Clint only thinks of Matt using Google because he wasn't sure whether he was blind or not at that point**


	4. Baited

Chapter 4 / Baited:

 **Sorry for the very long delay on this story guys. Between my summer job, my last year of uni and a few of family disasters I'm finally ready to continue with this story. Thanks to everyone who has continued to read, favourite and review this story. Your support is greatly appreciated. Hopefully the rest of this fic will live up to your expectations.**

* * *

Matt was trying to keep his cool. He was currently sat in the office of Nelson and Murdock, waiting for Bullseye to appear. What would he do if he did? He couldn't fight him off without revealing who he was. Hell, he wasn't sure if he could fight him at all.

Sensing movement on the neighbouring rooftop, Matt relaxed his body slightly. Clint was waiting there, prepared to make a move when the time came. But would Clint be able to stop Bullseye? Matt wasn't sure.

Surely he could do something more useful then worry. Matt tried to think about who was out there who would want both him, Foggy and Daredevil dead. Clint had asked him earlier but the only reply that he could think of was Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin of Crime. But the last time he had checked Fisk was in prison. There was no way that he could be calling the shots this time.

Matt sensed Clint tense up, preparing to move in on his position. He had assured Matt that he could spot an assassin hiding in a crowd. Matt extended his senses, examining the people in his surrounding area until he found a heartbeat that he recognised. It was the same guy as last night. Bullseye.

The assassin stealthily entered through the door, attempting to sneak up on the blind lawyer. Matt smiled internally. If only the guy knew. It took all of the willpower that he possessed not to react. Not to get up and fight the man who had kidnapped Foggy. He waited, he would get his answers soon enough. Bullseye would talk. Daredevil would make him.

Bullseye swiftly wrapped his arm around Matt's neck, pulling him off of the chair, cutting the airflow to his lungs. Matt could only sigh in relief as Clint came swinging through the window a split-second later. He must have looked like that Spider vigilante over in Manhattan that the public talked about so much about recently. That was someone whom he should pay a visit to when this mess is all over.

Bullseye let go of the half-unconscious Matt, shoving him to the floor behind him. He obviously did not expect the blind lawyer to be a worthwhile threat. Unfortunately in this instance, Matt would have to play along with that notion. He lay idly on the floor as the two assassins sized each other up, both waiting for the other to make the first move.

As the two assassins clashed, Matt found it hard to keep up with them both. Even with his advanced senses, they both moved so fast that he could barely register their movements.

He sensed it a split-second before it happened. Trying in vain to shout out a warning to Clint as Bullseye retrieved a hidden knife from behind. He slashed Clint's arm, breaking his defence and causing him to drop his bow.

Bullseye pressed on the attack, pushing Clint back with a flurry of skilled slashes, kicks and punches. If not for Clint's own skillset then he would have been killed. He managed to prevent any of the strikes from causing lasting harm, falling to the floor in exhaustion. He swiftly retrieved an arrow from his quiver in a desperate attempt, stabbing towards his opponent. Bullseye twisted however, causing the arrowhead to get caught in his tactical harness. He used his sai to snap the arrowhead off before sweeping a kick to Clint's face, knocking him down once more, broken arrow in hand.

Matt used his senses to measure Clint's vitals, deeming him alive and relatively unharmed. Bullseye left Clint and came towards him, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him from the room. Matt tilted his head slightly. He could sense a faint signal coming from somewhere in Bullseye's harness. But before he could ponder on it anymore his wrists were being zip-tied behind his back. The assassin threw the lawyer into the back of a vehicle, quickly checking behind him in case of pursuit, before getting into the front and driving off.

* * *

After what felt like an age had passed, Matt found himself being pulled out of the vehicle and into a building. Noise seemed to echo around the space more than usual, and he could sense the faint lapping of water in the distance. If he had to take a guess then he would say that he was in a warehouse near the docks.

Matt could also sense another heartbeat, which flickered faintly. _Unconscious_ , he though to himself as he was pulled closer. It took him a moment to recognise the pulse: _Foggy_!

Bullseye suddenly stopped, throwing Matt to the floor as he pulled out his phone. Matt sensitive hearing could pick up the faint dialling tone as if the phone was against his own ear. The tone stopped as the recipient answered.

"I've got them both." Bullseye stated simply, his voice tinted with a slight gravelly edge to it. His presumed employer said nothing, merely ending the call. The assassin put the phone away, turning to watch his two victims as they waited.

After what felt like an age in silence, with nothing but the echoing sound of breathing, Matt heard a door open at the opposite end of the warehouse, sharply breaking the stillness that had settled over the area. He extended his senses, attempting to identify the intruder. He did. A chill shot down his spine. He'd never forget that presence.

When the man in question reached him, he stopped. His voice interrupting Matt's moment of panic. "I promised you that I would be deal with the two of you as soon as I got out…or did you forget?"

Matt would never forget the threat that had been directed to him a few months ago, as the man in question had demonstrated his power and influence over the prison system.

Matt could feel the smile creep onto his face. The face of the Kingpin of Crime. The face of Wilson Fisk.

Flanked by two bodyguards, he took a step back. "What about the Devil of Hell's Kitchen?" Fisk enquired, turning towards Bullseye. "Is he dead?"

"Not exactly," the assassin replied, noting the look of displeasure on the Kingpin's face. "He escaped when I attacked him last night. I roughed him up pretty good though…if he has any sense then he'll run away and hide."

"I didn't hire you to scare the vigilante off, I hired you to take him _out_ of the picture!" Fisk snapped, his temper beginning to rise.

After a moments silence, Bullseye spoke again. "There's…another problem." The Kingpin's eyebrow raised, prompting him to continue. He waved towards Matt. "When retrieving this one, I was attacked by another vigilante type…ever heard of the operative Hawkeye?"

"The weakest of the Avengers? Yes." Fisk stated, distaste in his voice. "A foolish guy with a bow has been troubling the Tracksuit's as of late. I guess that means he's in town…"

"And onto our case, apparently." Bullseye interjected.

"I trust that it is nothing that you can't handle?" Fisk asked, his words threaded with subtle threat.

"I've already bested the man once." The assassin exclaimed, his pride and reputation being called into question. They continued to talk about how to deal with the archer as Matt's focus faded from the conversation, homing instead onto the presence prowling the roof of the warehouse: _Clint_.

The Avenger placed an arrow on the glass above them, before securing a rappel line to the roof. Matt braced himself for the coming impact, preparing his overactive senses for the oncoming blow.

He heard exclamations of shock from his captors as the skylight smashed, sending shards of glass in all directions. Clint wasted no time, rappelling down from the roof, letting loose a projectile from his bow, which detonated on impact, letting loose a shower of heat, possibly sparks. Matt sensed their opponents stumbling to floor, dazed and confused.

Bullseye recovered quickly, standing up to face Clint as the archer reached the ground. Matt could sense the Kingpin and his men scrambling to their feet, making their escape whilst the two assassins circled each other. He huffed in frustration, unable to stop him without revealing his secrets.

"You're either overconfident or a fool." Bullseye jibed. "Avenger or not, I've already defeated you once."

"That's the thing about being defeated…" Clint smirked, raising his bow defensively in front of his body. "…you learn more about your opponent then any form of observation ever could."

"That's a nice justification," Bullseye began, "but you're not walking away from this either way…"

Bullseye quickly threw a knife at the archer, who deflected it with his bow, quickly spinning around to return fire, an arrow already drawn. The two of them exchanged blows. Bullseye used quick and precise jabs with his sai, aiming for the most damaging areas whilst Clint retaliated with his bow, attempting to disarm his opponent and render him incapacitated as swiftly as possible.

Bullseye aimed a strike towards the wound on Clint's arm. Luckily, Clint had anticipated it. Matt smirked as Clint kicked the other assassin in the gut, quickly following with a blow from his bow, sending Bullseye staggering back a few paces.

All of a sudden, Matt heard the sharp sound of a chamber cocking. He sensed the shooter exhale steadily. He could tell that they were at a considerable distance. He honed his senses in on the sniper as the shot rang out, the sound like a clap of thunder in his ears. He cringed as the projectile smashed through the warehouse window, adding to the chaotic mess of noise swirling through his skull.

The bullet hit before Bullseye had a chance to gain his bearings, tearing through his ribcage, sending him sprawling to the floor. The assassin lay still, his heartbeat slowing as he bled out on the floor.

Clint whipped around, arrow already drawn as he aimed in the direction of the shooter. Matt could feel his tensed muscles preparing to release the shot. But the sniper wasn't an enemy, he was…

"Stop!"

Hawkeye turned towards Murdock, wearing what Matt assumed to be a look of confusion.

"He's not an enemy. He's…" Matt found himself lost for words. What term described his relationship to Frank Castle? _Friend_? _Ally_? _Rival_?

Clint completed his sentence with a simple: "Complicated." Matt nodded in response, moving to grab Foggy as he sensed Frank on the move. As he began to check his vitals, he noticed Clint doing the same to Bullseye, letting out a dissatisfied grunt.

"Inconclusive," he stated. Matt paused and stretched his senses. Bullseye's pulse was low, continuously slowing. It was hard to tell whether this was due to him bleeding out or due to something else. He didn't have time to worry about that, however, as he hauled Foggy's unconscious body up over his shoulder.

"We need to get him to a hospital." He informed Clint, before leading the way towards the exit. If he had been focusing less about Foggy's wellbeing, Matt might have noticed the slight flicker of a beat coming from the supposedly perished assassin…

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **-Once again thank you all for your patience with this story and me**

 **-It's hard to have a Daredevil story without having Kingpin pulling the strings, especially after his awesome portrayal in the Netflix show**

 **-hmmm…that spider vigilante…I'd love to write a Daredevil/Spidey crossover fic but as of yet I have no decent ideas for one…hopefully in the future…**


	5. Tension

Chapter 5 / Tension:

Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin of crime, was concluding his latest meeting with the gang leaders of New York when Bullseye staggered in. The assassin's wound was pulsing with pain. If it weren't for the adamantium that enforced his bones, the bullet would surely have done fatal damage.

"So…" Fisk began, taking a deep breath. "…you survived then…" It didn't take a genius to see the anger that he was barely holding back.

"Yeah." Bullseye replied in a nonchalant manner. "I had to reduce my pulse to make it look real, but those fools bought it."

"Those _fools_ …are the reason that we are now in this situation." The Kingpin responded, his voice dripping with venom. "I was closer than ever to uniting all of the leaders, and now I have just had to reassure them all that I can handle their vigilante problems…which, by the way, is why I hired _you_."

"They caught me off guard…"

"I don't want excuses. I want results! Are you saying that these pests are too much to handle?"

"Not at all!" The assassin interjected, temper flaring as his reputation was called into question. "The vigilante and the Avenger I can handle. I just did not expect the inclusion of a third player in this situation."

"Ahhhh yes, Mr Castle." Fisk stated. Noticing the look that Bullseye gave him, he continued. "A psychotic fool that I dealt with in prison. I guess he's finally decided to take his revenge. I assume that you will be able to handle him also, now that you are…aware of him."

"Of course." Bullseye replied, a smirk gracing his face. "As soon as I find out where they are I'll make sure that they're out of the picture."

"Well, that is good to hear." The Kingpin stated. "The, uh, Tracksuits, as they seem to be called, have reported incidents with our troublesome Avenger at an apartment building downtown. I suggest you make a start there…"

* * *

Clint was relieved. Now that Bullseye was out of the way, they could focus on getting to the bottom of their problems. Wilson Fisk. If they could take the Kingpin of crime down, then the cities gangs would surely crumble. He could tell that Matt was uneasy about the death of the assassin, but at least they had gotten his friend to safety. After a moment of silence, Matt spoke.

"I thought for a bit that you'd lost me." He stated, tilting his head slightly in Clint's direction as they strode across the rooftop, with Matt now in full Daredevil gear. "How did you manage to find me anyway?" The archer chuckled for a second.

"The arrow that I stabbed Bullseye with was a tracking arrow. When I knew that I wasn't going to win the fight I tagged him with it so that I could find you later."

"I did think that the arrowhead was giving off a strange signal."

"You can sense a tracking signal?"

"I can."

"Oh, right. Of course. Why not?" He paused, taking a breath in disbelief for a second. "So you can track this Punisher guy by…"

"His heartbeat." Matt stated, as if it was an everyday activity. "And the smell of gunpowder…he reeks of that stuff…"

The two of them rounded the corner to see the Punisher squatted on the edge of the roof, gazing through a pair of binoculars at an abandoned factory. He removed the instrument from his face to look at them, seemingly unsurprised that they had followed him.

"Red." He greeted with a nod of his head.

"Frank." Matt replied, his voice curt. "Staking out another of the Kingpin's buildings, or is this another person you're after?"

"Fisk is the only one I need right now." Frank responded. "He needs to be put down for good."

"You can't solve everything by killing people Frank. You've already killed Fisk's assassin, that's one too many deaths already."

"It's not enough. The only way that this ends if with the Kingpin in a body-bag. I thought that you'd understood that after your encounter with that ninja leader a few months back."

Clint, who had been silently watching the two of them go back and forth, finally spoke up.

"Ninja leader?" He asked, turning to look at Matt. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen stayed silent, his face twitching slightly. The Punisher had clearly hit a nerve.

After a lengthy moment of tense silence, Matt spoke up.

"We're done here." He stated, walking off without another word. Clint jogged after him.

"I suggest we head back and rest up." He told Matt. "It's been a long day and we're going to need to be at full strength if the Kingpin is even half as formidable as the intel that S.H.I.E.L.D had on him suggested."

"Fair enough. You head back. I'm going to have a sweep of the city before I head home." Matt replied, his voice firm. Frank's mention of Nobu had riled him up. "I'll stop by tomorrow and we'll figure out our next move."

Clint simply nodded in agreement, beginning the rooftop trek back to his apartment building. Exhaustion was already beginning to set in.

"If only I had Cap's stamina and endurance…" He told himself, chuckling slightly. "At the very least I've got his knack for finding trouble…"

* * *

Clint had barely finished opening his apartment door before he was on full alert, his body moving in an instant reaction to dodge the blade that was heading for his skull. The weapon embedded itself in the wood next to his head, vibrating slightly from the force of the throw.

He quickly surveyed the darkness of the room, focusing on his training to spot the assassin hidden in the shadows, silhouetted by the open doorframe of the fire-escape. Clint swiftly withdrew the blade from the door and threw it with perfect accuracy at his attacker, only to have them catch it.

Bullseye laughed, stepping out of the shadows, a grin plastered on his face.

"Everybody always said that the accuracy of Hawkeye was unparalleled. I guess I'll have to prove them all wrong." The assassin said, twirling the knife in his hand.

 _This guy again?_ Clint grimaced. _Couldn't he have just stayed dead?_

Bullseye swiftly threw the blade once again as the archer pulled his bow out, using it to deflect the projectile. He quickly withdrew an arrow, firing as the assassin took cover behind the couch. Clint dodged their next projectile as Bullseye quickly retreated behind cover once. The Avenger rapidly knocked another arrow, ricocheting it off of the wall to reach his target. He heard a grunt of pain, bringing a satisfied smirk to his lips.

"Impressive." Bullseye spoke, his voice drifting from his hiding spot across the room. "But I'm going to have to repay you for that one!"

The assassin sprang up mid-sentence, catching Clint off guard as he threw his next blade, severing the straps of the archer's quiver. Clint's arrows spilled across the floor as Bullseye rushed the Avenger, pulling his earlier arrow out of his thigh to wield against him.

The two opponents traded blows, both struggling to gain the upper-hand. Clint blocked Bullseye's hit with his injured arm, recoiling slightly from the pain. The assassin took the opening, instantly stabbing the archer in the thigh with his own arrow, a wild smile etching his face at the poetic-ness of the move.

Clint stumbled backwards, dropping his bow as he tried to find his footing. Bullseye grabbed a flash-bang arrow from the floor as the Avenger regained his balance, stopping in the doorway to the fire-escape. The assassin threw the arrow at the floor in front of him, not letting up for a moment. Clint's vision went blindingly white as he was stunned, unable to stop the blow to his stomach. He reeled backwards, panic flowing through him as he hit the railing behind him. He could imagine the glee on the assassin's face as he toppled over it, flailing as he fell into the street below…

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **-Poor Clint, he just can't catch a break**

 **-From what I know, Bullseye actually does have adamantium bones in the comics, so I didn't make it up lol**


	6. Weakest Avenger?

Chapter 6 / Weakest Avenger?:

Clint couldn't see. His vision was blurry, trying to recover from the flashbang. He desperately tried to refocus his eyesight as the world sped past him. He fell faster and faster towards the alley below, arms flailing in an attempt to grab at anything. At the last second, he felt the grip of a railing, probably a lower fire-escape, as his training kicked in. He held on for his life, as his body's trajectory was changed. His shoulder felt like it was on fire as he swung, giving out as he felt it pop out of place. Clint lost his grip, his body tumbling into the wall of the building. He smashed his forehead into the wall, instantly blacking out as he fell the remaining distance to the floor.

Bullseye peered out from Clint's apartment, looking down to see the archer hit the floor hard. He paused for a second, slowly withdrawing a new blade as he waited to see what Hawkeye did next. He drew his arm back preparing to throw his knife. He had to admit he was a little disappointed, the supposed master marksman had died so quickly. He took a deep breath. He'd better make sure that the Avenger was dead. Just as he was about to throw the blade he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Bullseye lowered his arm, fishing out the device and answering it.

"Get back here _immediately_!" Fisk's voice was unmistakable, "The shooter you promised to deal with is here! He's tearing the place apart!"

The assassin hung up without a word, quickly climbing to the top of the building before rushing away towards the Kingpin's hideout, all thoughts of the Avenger lost.

* * *

Clint awoke to find himself surrounded by threats. He quickly moved to grab a weapon, only to be held down by gentle hands. A soothing voice told him to save his strength. A voice he recognised. He took a moment to register the faces that surrounded him. There was Paul, the retired baker. He could see the couple that had been beaten on before. The mother and child that he had saved when he finally decided to take action against the Tracksuits were also there, as well as others from his building that he had seen around. Clint smiled slightly as he laid his head back down, unable to meet the worried expressions that occupied their faces. His neighbours had come to help him in his time of need, just as he had helped them. He chuckled, _I guess karma does exist_.

"We found you in the alleyway." The mother said, keeping her voice calm and slow. "We've wrapped up your wounds to stop the bleeding, but that was the best that we could do. Your shoulder is still dislocated and you need serious medical attention." Clint slowed his breathing, forcing himself to relax.

"You've done more than enough." Hawkeye replied gratefully as he slowly sat upright. "I can patch myself up from here." He noticed that the worried expressions were back. "Look I…I can't go to the hospital, I...I'm…"

"We know who you are." Paul interjected, a smile etching his face. "We've seen the news advertisements. There aren't that many people that wield a bow nowadays. Who would have thought that an Avenger would end up here?"

Clint groaned. The mention of his tie to the Avengers only made him feel worse. Would Captain America have found himself in this position? Half-dead and endangering a bunch of innocents? Clint dropped his head in shame. The more the Avengers expanded, with new recruits such as Scott Lang or that spider-kid that they had come up against in Germany only succeeded in making him feel more worthless.

Even marksmanship and accuracy, the one thing that he was supposed to have an edge at over everybody else, had been taken away from him. He couldn't even beat the assassin Bullseye. He really was the weakest Avenger.

"Don't worry! We won't tell anyone!" One of the residents spoke up, mistaking his reaction. Clint grimaced slightly, attempting to put a brave face on.

A sudden bang was heard from the floor below, as an apartment door was seemingly kicked in. The crowd flinched as Clint shot up, wobbling slightly on his feet. He scanned his surroundings, noting that he must be in one of his neighbour's apartments. He quickly stumbled over to door, locking it before leaning on the wall beside it in preparation, listening as the next door was kicked down below them.

Clint told the residents all to hide in the small bedroom as he heard heavy footsteps making their way up the stairs onto this floor. In the mess of noise from their boots he could count a small team of three. Clint waiting in place beside the door ready to strike as soon they approached. One arm hung uselessly beside arm, throbbing with pain whilst the other shook slightly, his body not yet recovered. He took deep breaths, closing his eyes for a moment, finding the strength to ignore his aching to focus on the task at hand.

Clint's eyes flicked open just as the door was smashed in. He instantly struck out with his uninjured arm, knocking a pistol out of the first opponent's hands. Hawkeye quickly followed up by throwing his body at the attacker, slamming them into the doorframe, who in turn knocked the other two assailants back. His opponents quickly recovered, pressing their assault upon the archer.

Clint couldn't block all of their strikes with only one arm, and soon found his legs giving out, sending him sprawling across the floor. The Avenger could see stars as his assailants continued their assault, not letting up for a moment. Which was why he thought for a split second that he had imagined the weapon.

A crimson billy club flew past, ricocheting off of the doorframe to connect with one his opponent's heads, knocking them out cold. Everyone paused for a moment as they processed what had just happened. Silence filled the air, like the calm before the storm. A storm in the form of Daredevil.

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen leapt out of the corridor, smashing his other club against another assailant's ribcage, knocking the wind out of them. They doubled over, falling to the floor as the vigilante turned to face the last opponent.

As Daredevil made short work of the final assailant, Clint focused long enough to notice the second guy retrieving their gun from the floor, standing back up to shoot the vigilante. Clint quickly grabbed Matt's first billy club from the floor, smashing it into the back of the guy's knees. They fell to the floor as Daredevil flipped backwards, twirling through the air as he brought his foot down on the assailants head, rendering them unconscious in an instant.

Matt took a moment to catch his breath before turning to Clint, using his senses to check his vitals. The vigilante offered a hand, helping the unsteady Hawkeye up into a sitting position.

"You okay?" He asked, knowing that he wasn't but checking anyway.

"Yeah…I'll…I'll be good in a moment…" Clint replied, his breathing staggered. "I just need to catch my breath…"

"Good. Because there's a reason Fisk could only spare three men to finish you off right now." Matt paused, knowing that Clint wasn't in good shape but also needing his help more than ever. "He's under siege. If there's going to be any time to strike, it's now…"

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **-Why do my fics always seem to find some angle to give angst to the characters? (sigh)**

 **-We saw a bit of Clint's insecurity in Age of Ultron when he was talking to his wife, I felt like that was a good moment which grounded him in this fantastical world and reminded us that he is the most human of all the Avengers**

 **-I wanted to give Matt a chance to help Clint as Hawkeye has been the one helping Matt the majority of the time so far**

 **-Almost there now guys, only two more chapters to go!**


	7. Street Level Heroes

Chapter 7 / Street Level Heroes:

Clint gasped at the pain as he felt his shoulder pop back into place.

"Now that's over with, you should gear up. I know you need much longer to recover but…" Matt began, guilt setting in.

"I know." Clint interjected, testing the flexibility of his now reset shoulder. "Take it from a professional operative: we're not going to get a better chance then this."

Matt nodded. He wished that Clint could have more time. He was in pretty bad shape. They both were. Matt had been sweeping the city when he had intercepted a call between one of the gangs, noting that Fisk was under attack and he was calling all of his allies to protect him. The three thugs that he had been following had been given separate orders: they were to make sure that Hawkeye was eliminated. When the thugs drove off, Matt was afraid that he wouldn't catch up to them in time. He was just lucky that they had spent so long sweeping the apartment building before finding the Avenger.

He took a deep breath, clearing his thoughts as Clint retrieved his bow and quiver. Matt paused for a second. The strap for the quiver had a strong scent to it. Could it be new? He shook the thought aside, that wasn't what mattered right now.

"I don't suppose those guys said anything before they attacked you? Anything that might help us track down Fisk?" Matt asked, unsure of where to start. He'd search with his senses block by block if he had to.

"No, they didn't say anything. But I think your Punisher friend might have been on to something with that factory…"

* * *

Reaching the rooftop edge that they had previously resided on a few hours ago, the two heroes paused for breath. Matt could smell the stenches of blood, sweat and gunfire. Frank had really done a number on this place. The vigilante noted the discarded rifle next to his feet. The Punisher must have fired upon the factory, shooting holes through the windows and walls before running out of ammunition, forcing him to take the fight closer. Daredevil tilted his head to the side, locking his focus on the two pulses that were currently engaged in combat.

"Bullseye's currently fighting the Punisher on the factory roof!" Matt told Clint, nodding his head in the direction of the structure. He head Clint sigh, readying his bow. As soon as he fired the rappel line, Matt launched himself onto the cable, wasting no time in traversing over to the opposing roof. He could feel Frank's strength waning, he did not have long left.

Matt sensed Frank hit the floor just as his feet touched down on the factory rooftop. He took a few steps forwards, coming to a stop when he heard Bullseye pick up the handgun that the Punisher had previously held. Clint came to a stop behind him, knocking a new arrow as Bullseye turned to face them, raising the pistol.

Clint loosed his arrow before Bullseye could fire a shot, disarming the assassin as Daredevil rushed him, using Clint's move as covering fire. The vigilante withdrew his billy clubs, attaching the two batons together to make a short staff. Bullseye recovered swiftly, withdrawing a sai to clash with Daredevil as Hawkeye flanked to the right, drawing his next arrow. Matt could sense Clint's lack of ammunition, the events of the past two days dwindling his supplies.

The three combatants dodged and weaved, Bullseye managing to fight off Daredevil whilst evading Clint's arrows, keeping the Devil of Hell's Kitchen in the archers line of sight as often as he could. The assassin kicked Matt in the stomach, sending him staggering backwards as he turned to his right, bringing his sai up to deflect Hawkeye's latest shot. The arrow span through the air, planting itself in the ground near Bullseye's feet.

"That was your last shot Avenger!" The assassin taunted as Matt sensed Clint reach over his shoulder, hand grasping at nothing. He heard the grunt of annoyance come from the archer's lips as he lowered his arm, bringing his bow into a fighting stance.

Matt readied himself to Bullseye's left. He could sense fatigue radiating from all three of them. They'd all suffered greatly in their on-going struggles. Each one knew that this was it. This was the moment when their struggles would end, one way or another.

Daredevil tilted his head towards Clint, subtly letting him know that he was awaiting his move. His old mentor Stick has taught him many lessons when it came to combat, but Matt realised that he had forgotten one of the most basic of teachings. One that he utilised on a daily (or more accurately: nightly) basis. He could almost hear Stick's voice as he recited it in his mind. _Unless your opponents fight in unison, their numbers will only serve to your advantage_. Whilst training Matt had always been afraid of being outnumbered. How could he possibly fight multiple opponents at the same time? He shook his head, clearing his thoughts as he refocused back on the archer, reading the stillness that had settled over him.

He suddenly felt Clint twitch, instantly throwing his staff at the assassin, knocking the sai from his hands. He heard Clint's approaching footsteps as he launched himself after his weapon, throwing controlled punches at the barely recovered Bullseye.

Landing a glancing blow to Matt's face, the assassin retrieved his staff before locking himself into close-quarters combat with Hawkeye, who wielded his bow in a similar fashion to the staff. In the midst of battle, Clint caught sight of Matt as the vigilante pulled himself to his feet once more.

Bullseye's reactions were so quick, it was almost impossible to land a blow on him, whether that be close or ranged. It was almost as if he had Matt's senses, allowing him to constantly 'see' everything around him. Clint suddenly got a flash of an idea. It was quickly buried when the assassin pressed his attack, launching a foot backwards to kick Daredevil over once again.

Hawkeye was on the defensive, slowly retreating as he was pushed backwards by the assassin's onslaught. His crazy idea flashed in his head again as his leg caught on something: the arrow. His mind went into overdrive. If his plan messed up in any way, he could kill Matt, or blow his last shot and only chance at winning the battle. He couldn't last much longer, and Clint knew that Matt couldn't take Bullseye alone. He looked over his opponents shoulder to see the vigilante regaining his footing once more.

 _Screw it_! He had to put his faith in Matt and his senses, praying to God that it wouldn't go wrong.

In his desperate final attempt, Clint grabbed his arrow from the ground, flipping backwards to put a bit of distance between himself and his opponent. He let the arrow loose mid flip, hoping to catch the hitman off guard. Bullseye was ready though. The assassin side-stepped the arrow, planting a predatory grin on his face. He knew that the archer barely had anything left in him. He began to advance on the Avenger.

Despite Clint's earlier comparison, Bullseye did not have Matt's senses. If he did, he would have heard the sound of Daredevil's fingers clasping the shaft of the speeding arrow, catching it mid flight. He would also have heard his approaching footsteps as the vigilante approached him from behind. But Bullseye was too focused on killing Clint, determined to prove himself the better operative and marksman. He hesitated slightly at the smug look in the Avengers eyes, a seed of doubt flickering through his mind before the arrow pierced the back of his shoulder. He fell to floor as the Devil of Hell's Kitchen landed on top of him, swiftly striking him in the back of the neck until the assassin was unconscious.

Matt slowly slid off of the assassin, fatigue finally catching up with him. He fell to a sitting position, focusing for the next few moments on nothing else but breathing. He noted Clint falling to his knees beside him, clearly as exhausted as he was, if not more so.

"That…" The vigilante took a deep breath, "…that was a smart move. Unless you were trying to hit him. Your body's readouts were a bit off so I couldn't really tell but it…it…"

"It worked out okay in the end…" Clint interjected. "…and yes…I trusted that you would make sure that I wouldn't kill you." Matt merely nodded, a smile creeping across his lips.

A coughing sound came from across the rooftop, as the Punisher himself came to. Frank pulled himself to his feet, looking around as his eyes stopped the three figures. He began to make his way over, retrieving his pistol on the way. He cocked the gun as he reached them, raising it without a moment's hesitation.

" _No_! Frank! There's no need for that. He's out already. Save it for Fisk!" Matt couldn't determine whether he meant it or not as the words left his mouth. Clint only observed, the man no stranger to killing, as Frank begrudgingly lowered his weapon.

Matt turned to Frank, ready to thank him just as his sensitive hearing picked up a phone call to one of the Kingpin's men below. He listened intently, face dropping as the call ended. Clint looked over to him, recognising his stance as he awaited the vigilante to tell him what he had learned.

"Fisk is escaping! If we don't catch him now he'll be make it out of our reach for good!"

The archer and the vigilante shot up, both ignoring their protesting bodies as they rushed off to prevent the Kingpin from getting away. Frank Castle stood still, watching the pair leave as he slowly withdrew a combat knife, turning his back on the heroes to face the unconscious assassin…

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **-What's the Punisher going to do? Who knows? I don't! (I do really…)**

 **-Only one more chapter to tie everything up now!**


	8. Bonds of Trust

Chapter 8 / Bonds of Trust:

Clint was kicking himself. He could almost guarantee that the vigilante walking alongside him was doing it too. They both felt the meaninglessness of their victory over Bullseye before as they made their way back to the factory rooftop. Fisk had gotten away. It didn't take much to get one of his men to talk, informing them that he had gone to seek refugee with his love: Vanessa. There was nothing more that the pair could do.

Clint knew that something was wrong when Matt let out a gasp. He turned his head to check on his companion as Daredevil rushed ahead, running out onto the rooftop to check on Bullseye.

Clint took a few seconds to catch up to him, coming to a stop in front of Bullseye's face-down body. He bent down to check the assassin's pulse. He was still breathing. Clint turned the hitman over to see what was afoot, only to gasp in shock at the sight of him. The assassin's forehead was covered in blood, seeping out from the rough bull's-eye symbol that was carved into his flesh. Clint tore his eyes away to gaze at Matt, wondering how much of the wound that the vigilante could decipher with his senses.

"If we want him to live, then he needs medical attention now!" The archer stated, lifting the body onto his shoulder, before taking off into the night, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen in close pursuit…

* * *

 _The Next Evening…_

Clint lay in his bedroom, unmoving. He was finally going to take it easy. He was going to lay low, like he originally planned. He gazed around his small apartment, looking at the mess that he had yet to clean up. _Meh! There was always tomorrow_ … Unfortunately it was at that moment that his phone vibrated, alerting him to the bad news.

 _The Government has been tipped off to your location. You might want to get going. Good luck Barton_.

Clint grumbled. Tipped off? That had to be Fisk. He forced himself out of bed. So much for the rest that he had had planned. At least Cap had warned him, giving him enough time to leave before the Government caught up to him.

After gathering his folded bow, scavenged arrows and anything else that was light to carry but that he'd need, Clint froze. Standing in the centre of the room, he wondered what would happen if he left. Whilst the threat of the Tracksuits had faded for now, the oppressed innocent living in the building still needed help. As if reading his mind, a voice spoke from his doorway.

"I can get these people the legal help that they need." Matt told him, stood at the entrance to his apartment clad in his daytime suit, a slight smile plastered on his face. "And if the Tracksuit's decide to resurface, I'll give these people the help that they need with them too."

Clint nodded, silently thanking the lawyer. He paused for a second at Matt's blank reaction.

"I did see that nod…if you were wondering…"

"Oh, right…" Clint laughed. After a slight pause, he continued. "I'm sorry we didn't get Fisk…and I'm sorry that I can't be around when he inevitably returns…" Clint gestured to his sizable bag on the floor next to him.

Matt smiled again. "We tried our best…and you're right…he'll be back. I'll get him next time…"

The blind lawyer took a step forwards, holding his hand out to the archer.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad that I got to work alongside you of all the Avengers. I don't think I could have trusted any of them as easily as I did with you. Your humanity is what makes you a hero."

Clint let out a dry chuckle as he tried to think of some witty remark to counter Matt's words. He couldn't. He simply nodded as he gazed at the floor.

"Thank you." He told the lawyer after a moment's silence. "That means a lot." He bent down to pick up his bag, lifting it over his shoulder as he prepared to leave. A thought suddenly crossing his mind.

"Speaking of team-ups, you're going to need help to defend New York from Fisk when he returns, or anyone else for that matter. You can't defend an entire city on your own." Clint told Matt, requesting Matt's phone before noting a few things down. He waited as Matt replayed the message, his phone reading the names and addresses. Matt gave Clint a questioning look.

"They're individuals who have gained the Avenger's attention." He paused, smirking at Matt's uneasy face. "You're on their list too. But if you ever find yourself needing help in this fight you're caught up in, they might be a good place to start. The spider-guy is a bit on the young and inexperienced side, so he might not be ready yet, but I'd definitely check up on the rest."

Clint patted his shoulder as he made his way past him, closing the door to his old apartment. He began to make his way down the corridor before Matt's voice stopped him.

"In the spirit of help, I suggest that you track down a friend of mine before you leave. Her name is Claire Temple. She can help patch you up. The last I heard she was residing up in Harlem."

"Very well." Clint nodded without turning around. He continued walking after a beat, making his way into the alley outside. He wanted to make a quick and clean escape, avoiding the fuss that his neighbours would make over him. Besides, the less they knew about him and where he was going, the better they would be when the Government came calling.

Clint began to type out a text as he walked: _Thanks for your help. If you ever need mine again, feel free to contact me on this number. You only have to call and I'll be there. Clint_.

He sent the message to Matt, whose number he had taken when he had his phone. Clint pocketed his mobile before continuing to head down the alleyway, coming to a stop when he was heard panting.

A coffee coloured dog approached him, smelling the archers legs as it's tail wind-milled. Clint knelt down to pet him, noting the dirt in the animals fur and it's injured left eye. _The poor thing must be homeless_.

"As lovely as you are, I have to get moving." He told the dog as he stood back up, regaining his traction as he continued to move. The animal whined for a second, tail stopping as it watched Clint walk away. It let out a sudden bark, rushing to catch up to the Avenger.

Clint sighed, reaching inside his bag to retrieve one of the tennis balls that he sometimes used for target practice. "I guess it's your lucky day boy." He bounced off the ground before throwing it with deadly accuracy, knocking a bottle over as it bounced down the alley.

Clint switched directions, walking to his left as the dog chased after the ball. He paused after a second, hearing the sound of panting behind him. He turned to see the dog sat patiently, tail wagging once more as it dropped the slobbery ball from it's mouth, watching as it rolled to a rest at Clint's feet. The archer sighed once more, reaching over to rub the animal's head as he checked it for a collar. Nothing. He let out a groan, going against his better judgement.

"You really are quite lucky aren't you."

The dog barked in the middle of Clint's sentence. The archer smiled. "Lucky? Yeah, I like that name…you want to be called that?" The dog simply looked on, love in it's eyes as it whimpered, it's tail sweeping across the floor.

Clint stood up straight, regaining his stride as he retrieved the tennis ball from the floor. "Come on then Lucky!" He called the dog, patting his side. The pair strode down the alleyway, off to find their next adventure. Clint smiled as he looked at his new companion trotting alongside him. Perhaps things wouldn't be so bad after all…

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **-I'd just like to say thank you for reading if any of you have gotten this far. Feel free to give me feedback, whether it be positive or critical, it all helps!**

 **-I'm not exactly sure what breed of dog Lucky is supposed to be in the comics, he looks like a Labrador but I couldn't find anywhere the specifically said it, so I thought I'd leave the breed of the dog up to everyone's imagination**


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